Chapter 1 Continued

Same chapter, right after Tara throws her verbal dagger. His internal monologue will give us a glimpse into his calculated, cold, but secretly intrigued mind—no softness, no flirts yet, just raw rivalry:

POV OF KIAN RAHEJA

Tara Vyas was insufferable.

Brilliant, yes. Focused, absolutely. But insufferable.

I didn’t sit beside her every lecture because I enjoyed her company. I sat there to remind her—and myself—that this wasn’t over. Not until one of us was holding that university gold medal... and the other was clapping from the crowd.

She didn’t talk like the others. Didn’t giggle. Didn’t swoon.

She snapped back—clean, precise, deadly.

The type of girl who kept her pens sharper than most people’s morals.

The type who didn’t chase attention... and somehow got it anyway.

“You’re blocking my light,” she said, eyes still on her notes.

A petty jab.

I gave her my signature smile—the one that made other girls stammer. She didn’t even blink.

Fascinating.

She hated that I was always one step ahead. That I made it look effortless.

But here’s the secret I’d never say aloud:

It wasn’t effortless.

I saw the way she studied until the library lights dimmed. I matched her, hour for hour, word for word. She pushed me, and I pushed harder. We were poison to each other’s peace—and fuel to each other’s fire.

Still, I couldn’t resist the game.

Tara Vyas wanted to rule.

So did I.

And there could only be one crown.

But the strange thing? The more I fought her...

...the more I found myself watching her.

Not admiring.

Not liking.

Just... observing.

Every glare. Every comeback. Every time she rolled her eyes at me like I wasn’t worth a second breath.

Interesting, Vyas. Very interesting.

Let’s see who blinks first........

TARA VYAS

I believed in work. And I was damn good at it.

I like to analysis notes and rearrange them, sometimes highlight if neede.

“Still highlighting everything like a nerd?”

His voice slid through the air like butter off a hot knife.

I didn’t blink.

“Still stalking what I do like a fan?” I shot back sweetly, not turning my head.

He chuckled. Low. Rich. Dangerous.

“Someone’s defensive. Must be the trauma of losing last week’s debate.”

“You didn’t win, Raheja. The professor just got tired of your voice.”

“I don’t lose, darling. I just let you feel good about trying.”

That made me look beside, to him.

His smirk was carved by the gods. But I refused to admire the art of my enemy.

“You’ll need that ego when reality finally slaps you.”

“Looking forward to it,” he whispered, leaning in just a little too close. “Especially if it’s your hand doing the slapping.”

What. The. Hell.

I blinked. For a second, just one second, my brain stalled. My heart betrayed me, kicking against my ribs like a traitor. But I masked it fast.

“You wish.”

“No, you wish.” He tapped his pen once. “But you don’t know it yet.”

He leaned back like he’d already won something, and my skin burned—not with attraction, but with rage.

Definitely rage.

As the professor started the lecture, I forced my heartbeat to slow down. I was the calm storm. He was just thunder. Loud, fleeting, unnecessary.

But deep down, a whisper spoke something I didn't want to hear:

You don’t hate him. Not really. You’re scared... because he sees you.

And that’s how this war began.

Not with a fight.

Not with fire.

But with the silence before a storm neither of us was ready for.......

What is going to happen? Something lovely, flirting or rage, fighting????

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